


Shifting and Slaying

by Ooze



Category: DmC: Devil May Cry, Gravity Rush (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, I'll welcome anyone else who likes it though, a giant AU that's basically just for me, featuring violence and profanity and demons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-06-17 12:57:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15461871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ooze/pseuds/Ooze
Summary: Somehow, a pair of Gravity Shifters is recruited into putting a stop to demonic tyranny, and it seems that no one but a pair of nephilim is willing to help send them back to their home world.Super self-indulgent crossover in which Kat and Raven temporarily join forces with The Order.





	1. Stray Cats

**Author's Note:**

> I only have knowledge of Gravity Rush 2. Anything that happened before then I'll improvise on. This is basically an AU.

_A red apple fell from the sky._

A young woman wildly soared, but involuntarily so. In actuality, she plummeted through the bright blue as if flung across the heavens. She'd fallen as if a heavy weight dropped from a great height, and she'd have been as good as dead if it hadn't been for the intervention of a little black cat falling along with her. In midair her descent slowed—in her unconsciousness she hadn't noticed a thing—and she continued to fall at a gentler speed. However, it was right above a shipping depot that gravity seemed to restore itself. The girl fell fast and wildly again, unaware of her reunion with solid ground when she crashed through shipping crates. Made of wood, thankfully, and only carrying apples within them. She hit the earth something hard, her unconsciousness enduring through the first moments she'd spent in a place she was a newcomer to. Something went terribly wrong, as usual. Hekseville had begun churning out a nasty reputation for itself. The cycle began again, only this time in a land utterly alien. She'd have lied out there longer, among the hot concrete and broken crates and the contents of which that had spilled out all around her. Apples, ironically enough.

It wasn't her guardian that woke her, either, but an angry voice and fiery words instead. She'd been harshly roused by the worker scheduled to pack the crates up, and with some good reason had he exploded; she'd done quite a number to his workload, only she would not even have the chance to process the damage, or him, or really anything: she jerked upward, complaining and groaning at the man's want of compassion and the throb in her skull. Her body ached, as a matter of fact. And Dusty, never far from her side, ran behind her when she finally gathered some portion of her bearings to flee. A shame she hadn't picked up one of the apples she'd loosened. Her stomach had a few choice noises for her about it, and at this she groaned, too.

How very bizarre that anyone's first instinct should be to yell and chew her out in her condition. She'd been hurt! She'd have, maybe, edged toward death, and all the man from before had only cared about were his crates. It was deplorable, worthy of rebuke, and she would have readily chewed _him_ out for his behavior if she was in the shape to try. Well, it hardly mattered anymore: she'd gotten to her feet one way or another, and now she was walking along aimlessly, hopelessly lost, and disoriented. “Dusty, I'm so _hungry_ ,” she whined, weakly pacing around a city she had never seen before, let alone heard of. It all looked foreign to her, like a whole new world. Nothing like Heskeville or Jirga Para Lhao, or anything she'd seen before. The first thing to really catch her attention and tickle her perplexity was the lack of traffic in the air, and how, on the ground, vehicles resembling airboats ran along as if members of a herd; their trails uniform, typically in straight lines, one following the other. It was all strange to her, as if she'd been born anew, but she really didn't pick away at the details at the time. It was her stomach that begged for her attention more than anything else.

And it still managed to bother her that no one would so much as _ask_ if she was all right. She certainly didn't _look_ it, she knew, but was she the only one who did? People passed by her like ghosts, or machines—some fast, some slow; energetic, mechanical, but seemingly dead to the world. Or, simply, too preoccupied to care. It made them callous to her, but she remembered she was used to this sort of thing from back home as well. It just felt _different_ , here, in this huge, gray, cold city.

_Ah! There!_

A concession stand! Sighted just some strides away, much to her overflowing relief. Just the thing to fix her right up. Gleefully she jogged right over, already fawning over the aroma that wafted out from the vendor's cart. Like a child smitten with brightly colored candies, she eyed the long and glistening piece of meat the vendor picked out of one of his cart's compartments, and he'd gone on to place it in the middle of a bun already sliced open to receive its occupant.

“Any condiments?” he wondered, watching her.

“No, thanks! I'll just take it as is!” she exclaimed, having found her vivacity, and already reached out for the hot dog but had inconveniently forgotten to exchange the money that it cost. When the vendor handed her snack over, announcing the price she'd have to pay, she paused as she was about to take a bite out of the thing. That's when she hesitated, humming as she thought over her money—or lack thereof. “Um, I just remembered. I'm a little broke...” As if wishing for an act of generosity, she delayed in returning the food which she had no right to have, eyeing the vendor with great big eyes, a pout, really the most pitiful expression anyone could have shown him in his life. But he denied her even something so small as a hot dog, and it was with all the reluctance in the world, and the heaviest heartbreak, that she had to part with her dearest treasure.

Crestfallen, moping as before, the girl walked the streets without aim or direction, cradling her stomach as if attempting to soothe it (or control its rage) until she'd find some way to have it filled. With the midday summer sun beating down on the city, she'd found it unbearably hot, and not even sticking to the crowded sidewalks had done much good for her. What little shade she would receive from the handful of canopies she'd walk beneath wasn't quite enough to relieve her torment. She had to go on complaining. “Dusty,” she moaned next, “I think I'm going to collapse at this rate.” Her cat only meowed at her, neither in disbelief nor in agreement. It was hard to tell what he meant, in reality. The city was tall and sprawling in all directions, and no one yet showed care toward a young lady in need. Had she really been so invisible to naked eyes? From what she could tell, no one had thrown a glance. However, given her clothes and the way her outstanding fashion stood apart from the rest—not including the color of her eyes or the mere _existence_ of her cat—it was safe to wager that she'd been espied from further away, where any onlookers would not be as easily noticed. The possibility of such a thing hadn't really mattered to her: what she wanted was food, rest, and a cool breeze to blow. Having a little bit of money would have gone a long way, too.

Her little friend had cried suddenly, a sharp “mrow!”catching her attention and, thus, having her nose pointed toward an interesting scene some dozens of feet away. Seemed as though, out in the middle of a small recreational area, there had been a gathering of people, and the more she neared, the clearer she could see: bundles of soda cans left on outdoor tables, visitors dropping in to pluck one away for themselves at what appeared to be _no charge_. This was no mirage! Her lucky break arrived at last! Dusty was thanked, he meowed humbly in turn and bolted after his companion when she seemed to gain her second wind. Oh, the joy doubtlessly seen on her face as she bounced toward her objective, all aches forgotten and her misery ignored for, at least, a few moments of relief.


	2. All Over a Can of Soda

It couldn't have been any good for her to be watched so closely, her movements tracked the moment she appeared before the hot dog vendor. Indeed, someone _had_ gotten their eyes on her, and now they couldn't be torn away. It would be something of a risk, getting this close to a common recreational area without avoiding all-seeing eyes and all-hearing ears. But he felt such a strong need to intervene, to prevent an error from being made. It would have lived on his conscience if he turned a blind eye. That girl, the one with the cat tailing her, bounding over to pick up a bright green can of soda—she'd place herself in a dilemma without even knowing it. And, really, everyone else around him had _already_ committed their folly. But _she_ could have been saved, at least. She was unlike them, unlike him, a complete and perfect stranger to these lands. He'd known it.

So, he dared. He would take the risk. He stepped out onto the street adjacent to the park entrance, serene in his brisk walk across the length he'd driven himself to cover. His eyes were like talons, hooked through his prey with every alteration in direction, every change in pace. But he was not so naive as to make it obvious he'd been on the hunt: with cunning he went, experienced in what he proceeded to do. The girl had turned away from one of the tables, joyously holding her still-cold can, speaking to her cat as if it'd understood, or cared at all—and what a strange animal it was, now that he'd gotten closer: its coat was a deep, impenetrable black, with something like cosmic dust strewn all about its frame. Where were its features? Its eyes? Something like a dense void contained within its form, whatever matter it was created from; never a thing seen before, and surely not something to be seen again. _Out of this world._

A small bunch of people was what he'd concealed himself behind, back half turned and his smartphone in hand to give misleading appearances. Eyes might have looked elsewhere, but ears would soon attune to the sound of her stride. She'd walked by them, fully focused on pulling the tab on her soda for her eagerly awaited first taste. And as the snap of aluminum and the hiss of carbonation escaping through the hole filtered right into his ears, the young man so far tailing his target had immediately stepped in by stepping _out_. So gracefully did he walk into her, the whole of his trunk colliding with her side hard enough to give the impression that he'd walked carelessly, distracted by the device in his hand. When the girl yipped, he only exclaimed an _oh!_ and he'd gone on to watch her drop to her rear, releasing the can just as he'd planned. When its cold vessel fell away from her fingers, she yelled in protest, eyes wide and mouth agape as if she'd lost the most important thing in the world. With the fall of the can on fresh cut grass, all of its contents pouring out of its sole opening, the fact of the matter was instantly set in stone before all witnesses. The evolution of events went far too quickly for her to reach out and grab her prize, and it was then that Vergil had to move in again.

“I'm sorry!” he apologized sincerely, stuffing his phone into a pocket and extending a hand to help her up. Abruptly had his expression changed, a look of sympathy mixed with fault now worn upon solid, convincing features. “I should have been looking. I don't know where my mind was.”

“I can't believe it,” she only whined while she watched liquid gold seep into the soil, “I was _so_ close this time…”

Her cat appeared unaffected, seated beside her with its tail curled around its paws. She genuinely lamented the loss of her soda, her precious refreshment. And at once a mighty growl erupted from her stomach, prompting her to groan as she wrapped her arms around her belly. What a pathetic looking thing, so heartbroken over a can of Virility. But Vergil noticed she was hungry, and that in itself made him wonder whether or not she sought a drink to fill her rumbling cavity.

“I'm sorry?” he repeated, now in a question directed at her complaints. “Look, I'll make it up to you. A soda's no good for you, anyway.” It seemed as though his offer did the trick. She looked up at him then, pout and frown fading from her face. Ah, now there'd appeared a spark of hope.

“Really? You would?!”

“Yes, I mean it. It's my fault, after all. I owe it to you.”

He'd been so sincere, so magnanimous. Absolutely convincing. He pulled her to her feet when she finally accepted his hand, and she dusted herself off almost immediately with nothing short of a smile on her face. “Thanks a lot! Even though, yeah, it _was_ your fault for bumping into me, and I ought to be really sore about that,” she said, her tone not quite so bright as before, but still optimistic enough to maintain _his_ faith. “I was so desperate for a drink before, though, and I had no money to buy anything for myself, so...”

“No need to explain,” Vergil answered, understanding in the way he dismissed her concern. No money, an obvious stranger to the city—this girl had found her luck when they collided with one another, as Vergil would bestow upon her more than she'd bargained for. He nodded at her to signal his readiness to lead her away from the park. “Come with me.”

The heat had, perhaps, not felt as overpowering as it once had. The young woman, by all appearances at the tail end of her teens, or only fresh out of them, had not moped this time, nor complained in spite of her stomach or the aches still vaguely clinging to her body. She walked beside him, following his lead obediently, a renewed spring in her step. The promise of some kind of reward kept her going this long, and she was grateful enough for that. She did have to wonder, however, how the stranger come to her rescue managed to carry the burden of a long-sleeved button-up shirt, black, and traditional slacks—in black as well. And… those were gloves on his hands, too, weren't they? She'd seen stranger things for sure, and kept her tongue this time instead of letting it flap wildly, without forethought. “Hey,” she chirped during their walk, “what's your name, anyway? I'm Kat, and this little guy's Dusty.”

“Gilver,” he replied flatly, eyes up ahead as he walked along the sidewalk with his company right at his side. He had to lie, unfortunately, giving her his alias. For now. In any case, it amused him that he'd found yet another girl in need by the name of Kat. A coincidence, so he hoped, and thought nothing more on the matter as he walked without a worry to rub off the contented look upon his face. He heard a hum from her, a questioning little sound as if she'd thought the name he gave was unusual. So it was, but he had nothing to say about it, and Kat didn't press him. Up ahead lied an ice cream stand, and it was there that he would repay the young lady for his folly. She'd already sighted it, her eyes growing even wider when he offered to buy her a cone.

No risk involved here, at least not much of one. A crowd of people thronged all around the vendors, threatening to clear out their stock, and Vergil had managed to wedge himself through an open space. Not large enough to accommodate his frame, but he'd persuaded it wide, all the while his acquaintance stood outside the gathering, watching and waiting in anticipation for what she now craved. What luck! Nearly unbelievable, and her feline might have believed the same had he shown only a little more interest. As it was, Dusty stood beside her with curious glances all around. But it took Vergil a handful (or two) minutes to complete his task, and from the mass he emerged with Kat's newest prize. Once more like a child, she beamed at the sight of the thing: great big scoops of creamy vanilla stacked on top of one another, all nestled within a crunchy waffle cone. Quite big, bigger than she'd ever had, and it thrilled her to bits.

“I think this settles my debt,” Vergil observed with a touch of humor, handing the cone off to her with the nicest smile _anyone_ would have worn. The treat was taken without a moment's hesitation, and he'd seen the happiest girl in the world then. How odd. If it pleased her so, he would be in the wrong to deny her something so simple.

“This has to be the best thing that's ever happened to me!” she so gleefully exaggerated, admiring the sight of the shiny ice cream as she pored over it in her hand. She almost couldn't be compelled to destroy its integrity, but she could've sworn she'd begun salivating the longer she took to fawn over it. “This totally makes up for the soda! Thank you so much!” And with that said she dove in, excitedly lapping up what was finally hers to eat.

 _Ah, yes. About that._ “Sure,” he replied, tone flat. “It'll melt in this heat if you don't eat it in a hurry.” He stepped to the side of her now, catching the cat's attention when he moved right by it. He felt its eyes on him, suddenly, when he hadn't felt them before, and he was prompted to look down at the animal, beholding for once red points of light. Its _eyes_ , he determined, and Kat caught them staring at one another. She had to giggle about it.

“I guess you're interesting to Dusty.”

“ _He's_ what's interesting,” Vergil admitted, looking up to meet Kat's own eyes—and, coincidentally enough, her irises had been a bright shade of red, as if to match those of her feline's. Undoubtedly noticeable upon first glance, that's partly what made her stand out among the rest of the populace. She appeared as healthy to him as any other woman her age, and that's what struck him. Would anyone really go so far as to wear red contact lenses? He thought not, but pressed upon her something else entirely. “To be honest with you, there's a little something I'd like to talk to you about.”

He'd have left her by now if she was anyone else, but luck simply had to bring them together, and it wasn't in his favor to stand out here, so susceptible to wandering eyes always searching. He'd gone out on his limb; now it was time for him to withdraw to the safety of the shadows, but Kat would certainly follow suit if he'd any say in the matter. Having hooked her curiosity, he could confidently step away from where they'd stood, and as he abandoned the ice cream stand, the girl clad in black and gold swiftly caught up to him. Or his backside, at least, tailing him this time rather than sticking to either one of his flanks. The ice cream was eaten away at as if second nature to her.

“Hm? But we just met.” Vergil's words pulled some caution out of her, now, and with a touch of skepticism she indulged him. “How much is a little?”

“We can talk once we get out of the sun. I can only stand the heat for so long.”

Kat might have grown suspicious of him when they walked further away from the density of human activity, and it was all so vaguely noticeable the way the sea of people thinned the longer they walked. Kat was no fool; naive at times, maybe, but far from foolish, and she glanced around her with growing frequency as she stepped onto new ground, absent-mindedly making work of her ice cream cone as she'd steadily reached its center. She said nothing to her guide, but observed. He, on the other hand, had not needed to look this way or that to locate himself: he gave the impression that he'd been here more often than not, and that could have either been something to find security in or something to dread. With the moderate change in scenery came a break from the sun's glaring heat-rays. Vergil came across a small coffee shop nestled in a shady nook, at the very corner of a strip of other eateries and businesses stretching out the opposite length. He seated himself at one of the tables left outdoors for customers, reclined into it, not at all interested in eating, though he'd an inkling his company would not have gotten full from having only ice cream, and following his stead she sat down in the only other chair available.

The canopy overhead was a great gain for them both, and the table itself provided adequate shade and shelter for Dusty. He, of course, sat closest to Kat. There passed a minute of silence, Vergil looking out into the streets as if in furtive study, and Kat went about finishing her cone as she'd eyed, mostly, _him_. He was… odder than she first thought. The whole of his being, his demeanor—it didn't strike her with too much confidence. Yet, here she sat, waiting for him to get to the point. As she took the last bite of her treat, Vergil's eyes settled upon her own at last, and he felt satisfied that he'd have her full attention now.

“It's about that soda,” he started, grave in tone, and low.

“Oh, it's water under the bridge now,” she brightly replied. “I forgive you, you know. The ice cream was fantastic!”

“No, I don't mean _that_. What you almost drank would've been harmful to you. It's dangerous. When I said it was unhealthy, I meant it.” Dark brows knitted then, not a stray line of humor or sarcasm allowed to form upon his countenance. He'd been serious now, speaking in terms of life and death though he'd veiled the core of his meaning so well that Kat wouldn't have seen through the cloud of _caution_ he presented her. It was plain to see that she'd reacted as he'd hoped, her face adopting a gravity all its own after dropping whatever sunshine was left about her.

“What do you mean it's 'dangerous'? How much worse is it than regular soda?” she wondered, a small touch of insecurity to her voice as she, too, furrowed her brows a mite.

“Getting into that would be a little more complex,” Vergil admitted regretfully. “But it's by far the worst,” he went on, mindful to keep his voice low. “You see everyone drinking it because they don't know. They say it's wonderful, but _don't_ be fooled by the praise. Virility is… toxic to the body, only no one could ever know upon first tasting it. Actually, its side effects are hard to detect if not impossible. That's why nobody knows, and they drink it all the same. If _you'd_ drank it, you'd have joined the populace.”

Were those words to be trusted? Kat hadn't known him, she didn't know this city, and she had no idea what was real or not. He might have had a tendency toward paranoia for all she knew. He could have been the type to entertain conspiracy theories; he may very well have just formed one as he sat across her. There was no way for her to know, unfortunately, but she decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. For all intents and purposes, he had given her a warning for her own safety. That in itself had to speak to his character. His motivations, at least, and Kat could appreciate that much from him. She would heed his warning, at least until she found reason _not_ to. _Gilver_ had been generous so far. He proved he was more a comfort than a threat. “That sounds pretty awful,” she observed, convinced. “And pretty illegal. Why doesn't anyone else know? You couldn't be the only one who does.”

“I know it's hard to believe, but you should take my word for it. A few know what I do, but primarily because I've told them. I did a lot of… digging. The kind no one else would want to, or even dare to try. And stopping them is an altogether different can of worms.”

“So… how did you suspect anything in the first place?”

Vergil fell silent in response, and that might have been the clincher for Kat to face him with immediate and thorough skepticism. He said nothing, but drew his up jaw and sealed his lips. He hadn't prepared an answer to that. She, on the other hand, watched him curiously, with uncertainty or a form of apprehension; she thought to keep her mouth as tightly shut as her companion, only she hadn't borne the pressure of having to answer any questions. All the while, blue eyes hadn't glanced away from a red pair. They gazed hard, rather, as if searching _Kat_ for an answer to give her. Ultimately, Vergil spoke again to say, “That's also a little complex.”

“I guess life here is pretty 'complex', isn't it?”

Oh, he _wondered_ if that was a subtle jab at his evasiveness. He deserved it, too. But he hadn't any way of knowing; Kat had obscured her intention quite well. There was the slightest touch of irony in her tone, like harmless, light humor; like she'd acquiesced and accepted what he had to offer as better than having been offered nothing at all. He nodded at her, assuring, “It is.”

“I really don't know what to make of all of this, but… you'd _want_ me to drink something like that if you didn't care, right?”

“That's exactly right, Kat. I'm afraid I'll have to leave you with my word on this, at least for now.”

“There's just one more thing I gotta know, though, and you'd better be able to give me an answer for it.” She anchored him right where he sat, verbally binding his legs to keep him from escaping when it looked like he was all wrapped up and about to lift himself out of the chair. He blinked as a result, genuinely caught off guard by what she'd implored. Kat had been sitting upright thus far, not once reclining into the backrest the way Vergil had. Her hands were planted neatly on her lap as opposed to Vergil's, which he'd had grab at the armrests. Though her tone was mild, she'd been definitive in her purpose, and her resolve was made clear through the words chosen and the way she'd delivered them. “How'd you know I hadn't already drank Virility before? You just said that I'd have 'joined' everyone else if I did—so you _knew_ that I didn't ever touch the stuff when you happened to bump into me.”

 _Oops._ So he'd let that slip, and she _caught_ him. He might have unjustly underestimated the amount of attention she was paying. Nevertheless, he was obliged to come clean. Kat suspected him, already privy to the fact that he was hiding his motive when they'd initially crossed paths. That collision was no accident.

“Ah,” Vergil said, rather sheepishly. “I guess I left that small detail out in the open. You're sharper than I gave you credit for if you managed to pick that up.” His chest deflated when he conceded, but there was no shame in failure so inconsequential (or so he'd hoped it would be). “In any case, when I first saw you, I'd known right away that you weren't from around here. I'm more aware of our surroundings and the people inhabiting this city than you think, and I've come to know exactly the kind of people that live here. No one I've seen has ever looked like you, _is_ like you, or has a cat like yours, period. That's what tipped me off.”

“So you followed me!”

“Not for very long,” he was quick to clarify. “I noticed you wanting to buy a hot dog but returned it. I followed you _then_.”

“And you walked into me on purpose. You would've stopped me from taking a drink no matter what.”

“I _did_ lie to you about that, and I _am_ sorry that I couldn't have been upfront with you back then, but the time and the place was inappropriate. I decided to spare you from the obvious harm you would've done to yourself. It might have been dishonest of me, but in the end I achieved what I had to. And _you're_ better off for it.”

Kat had no argument to make. The matter had been cleared up entirely as far as she was concerned, and Vergil's reasoning was sound to her. The approach may have left a lot to be desired, but what mattered was the result: he was right about that. She brightened just a touch at knowing he'd acted in her favor, going on to say, “I _should_ be sore about this, but... I'm not. You were looking out for me, and I appreciate it. I guess that's what's most important. You know this city better than I do, so who am I to say you're wrong? Better not take any chances, right?”

“You're being awfully amicable about this,” he observed, a little affected by her attitude. People were often disagreeable, uncooperative, but Kat proved herself different yet again. It should come as no surprise anymore, but Vergil knew he'd yet much to learn about her. She wasn't from around here, and surely she'd have compelling things to reveal. He smiled lightly, mirroring the expression Kat wore in his own fashion. “But, yes, there's no point in needlessly risking your health.”

“It's actually nice to know that _someone_ cares. I can't believe the other people here: they aren't any help at all, and I don't think they even _notice_ me. I'm pretty sure that if I passed out, everyone would just walk over me...”

“I'm afraid life in the city is… hard. It's shaped its inhabitants, so they're hard, too.” There was some sympathy detectable in Vergil's voice, though he'd a clear understanding of Kat's complaint. Now that the delicate topic from before had been moved away from, he could speak at his average tone and pitch. “It's just the nature of the beast. People are adaptable, and they adapt to their environment to survive it. That doesn't excuse them from being negligent, or even, uh… _crude_ ”—he'd have used the term _asshole_ if he knew Kat wasn't the type to offend easily—“like they'd been with you, but they're beyond help. It's the culture; can't be changed.”

“But you're not like that, and you look like you've lived here for a while.”

“I don't know,” he shrugged, “it's just the way I am. I might have adapted differently. Who really knows?” The truth of the matter was evident to him, but he'd not share so much with his acquaintance so early in their interaction together. More lay beneath the surface, away from Kat's line of sight, which had contributed to the callousness and, almost, _inhuman_ lack of compassion that she'd had to suffer. It was then that he finally rose from his chair, deciding at once to keep the conversation from dragging any longer. Not to be disrespectful, but it was time he returned to his affairs.

Kat followed, closing, “Whatever it is, I'm glad that at least _one_ nice person knocked me down to the ground.” She had a small laugh to add, smiling thankfully and brightly. Dusty came padding after her, loyal and attentive as ever. As she'd said before, it was all water under the bridge now, and she viewed Vergil in the best possible light. He hadn't anything to add, but stepped over to her, his back turned toward the moving gangs of people, and reached into his wallet to thenceforth pick out some _cash_. Two twenties and a ten—he'd handed the bills to her without a second thought.

“Here, you're going to need this.”

“Is that money?!”

“Don't make a big deal out of it. You _need_ money. It's essential. Consider it another gift from me.”

First food, and now actual money. This man was a delightful surprise without a doubt. Kat hadn't known how to react upon first setting eyes on the slips of green-tinted paper, so she'd gawked rather ridiculously at the offering nestled between gloved fingers. While it was a kind money she hadn't ever seen before, it _was money_ all the same, and she needn't Vergil's reassurance on something she already knew was fundamental in order to finally accept the gift. She carefully took the bills, and it was then that Vergil stowed his wallet.

“Good,” he commended. He looked satisfied. “I trust you to use that wisely. And don't even think about paying me back.”

“I just can't believe how generous you're being,” admitted Kat with genuine, justified amazement. She folded the bills multiple times over until they were all folded into a compact little rectangle and held in a covetous manner in her fingers. “You're really something else, Gilver.”

He dismissively waved a hand. “Worry about finding yourself a place to spend the night. I… actually want to discuss something else with you, so I'd ask you to meet me again tomorrow—if that's all right?”

“Really? What else is there?” Another surprise from him among the many: Kat hadn't known what else to do with him at this point, and there was no clear expression on her face that could have accurately reflected the befuddlement experienced.

“I'm running late as it is, Kat,” he said hastily, cleverly evading answering the question she'd posed. “I trust you to meet me tomorrow. I trust you to _trust_ me.” He may have left her wondering, but he didn't hesitate to bring out his phone and pull up a location within the city for her to go to. He showed it to her, along with an identifying landmark, explained brief directions for her to follow, including the time at which they should meet, and she _appeared_ to understand it all.

“Oh, and one more thing: mind the cameras. If you see one overhead, stay out of its line of sight. It's for the best.”

“Huh? Wh—? Okay, I guess. If you say so...” She took his word for that one, too, but it was something she'd have him explain tomorrow.

He'd finally broken away from her, bidding her a temporary farewell before he walked off to catch up to whatever else awaited him. It was all unusual to her, and somehow he'd gotten Kat to take a bite. Hook, line, and sinker _without_ the need for cruel, full deceit. Now it was up to her, the strangest newcomer to ever enter his city, to follow through with whatever it was he'd had in mind. But, for now, she would find herself lodgings and… perhaps put some of that gift money to use.


	3. Not Quite a Walk in the Park

Thankfully, the weather was fair at night. Forgiving. Kat had, indeed, put the money to use, and she'd found herself a place for the night's sleep as well. A hot, buttery soft pretzel was what she'd spent a little of the money on, quieting her belly with it at least for the evening prior so that she may sleep with a little more peace. Nothing totally filling, but it was adequate. Better than nothing. She found herself heeding Gilver's advice, veering away from the one or two cameras she spotted around the city. After some hours of useless wandering, she'd finally retired for the evening, reasonably spent after the long and tumultuous day she'd had—and she'd no better understood how in the world a gravity storm would have chucked her _this_ far out, rendering her a fish out of water. Or, specifically, a cat without a tree to climb. Nevertheless, she'd gone to sleep somehow and awoke in the morning rather… well, uncomfortably.

Something hard pressed at her ribs, seemingly alive as it dug in and withdrew rhythmically. She hadn't bothered to stir, but with the sound of a voice calling her name, insistently telling her to wake up, she realized she could ignore it no longer. She'd somehow formed the idea to crawl into a broken down old car and use the backseat as her bed. From the ball she'd curled herself into, legs drawn up and hands tucked beneath the side of her head, Kat finally opened her eyes and _what_ a surprise it was to be greeted with such a sight so early in the day. Dusty, of course, had awakened by now and only sat by her as he observed.

“Kat, _what_ are you doing here?”

“Ah, oh—! Weren't we supposed to meet later?”

Lo and behold, _Gilver_ again. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes as she yawned, lazily sitting forward, but forgetting to mind the roof above and bumping her head which had helped to stir her into clearer consciousness as a result. Nevertheless, she looked at the now-familiar visage that looked back at her through the open door that had been missing altogether.

“We were, if you wanted to do me the favor. I was on my way to find out at the place we agreed on, but I find you _sleeping_ out here like a... well, like a stray animal.” With a heavy frown he expressed his dissatisfaction, his tone critical as if she'd done the one thing he told her not to do—and _that_ would have earned a far worse reaction from him if it'd been the case.

As it turned out, Kat had decided to find herself a bed not too far from where they'd rendezvous, at an automobile repair lot left derelict for some months. She'd hidden herself away rather well, she thought, making use of one of the many cars (she still saw them as airboats) clearly abandoned. Missing all of its doors and tires, maybe, but if it hadn't been for the roof she'd been lying under, she'd have had it harder. She yawned at him then, wondering what possessed him to even come through here in the first place. “Well,” she began to elaborate at the end of her yawn, “I felt bad about using all of the money you gave me, and I thought about those cameras you told me to get away from. I didn't really find that many, and when I walked by here, I was already pretty bushed. So I thought I'd just spend the night right here, out of sight and out of mind.”

“You seriously preferred to sleep on a worn out, _dirty_ and potential metal deathtrap when you could have at least gotten yourself a motel room that has a _bed_ and _walls_ in it?”

“It's okay, I've slept in a pipe before. I'm used to it,” Kat assured with unmistakable humor at her own expense. She crawled out of the car and got to her feet, stretching instantly as if it'd been the most ordinary thing to her.

Vergil, clearly, did not grasp nor approve. “A _what_?”

“Yeah, back home. Actually, it _is_ my home.”

“My god, you must live in poverty,” he replied, aghast. Frankly, he'd forgotten his filter when he drew such a conclusion, and it worked to ruffle her feathers a little. He'd noted the wrinkling of her nose and had the mind to amend his observation, but she fired back at him before he'd even the chance to take in a breath.

“Shows what you know! It's perfectly comfortable and I wouldn't move out even if you'd offer me three times as much!” It didn't quite matter that, in reality, she'd at times complain about the size of her home, its location, the very simple fact that it was a _pipe_. She thought to defend herself here and now, and that was all that reigned in her mind even if only for a few fleeting moments. Often a hothead, she seemed to surprise Vergil given the way his eyes widened toward her response. But she found herself satisfied and cooled instantly, her frown melted away. She didn't let Vergil have a turn, but cut him off as he'd opened his mouth. “Well, I guess I can let that one slide. By the way, your new clothes: they look good on you!” She smiled as she complimented him, and it caught him utterly unawares.

His brows furrowed only a touch, but he showed his appreciation by thanking her regardless. He'd been dressed in attire she saw as unfitting for the weather: a black coat with what looked like the tail chopped off on one end, lined in sky-blue silk; a black turtleneck beneath, a pair of slacks the same color and material as his coat's lining, the same gloves as yesterday, and black leather loafers on his feet. Definitely a look that would stand out in a crowd. Perhaps just the way Kat's did, only more tailored to his own tastes and what the _regulars_ might see as appropriate, _normal_.

“Aren't they uncomfortable, though? I mean, in this heat… Oh, hey, is that a walking stick? You were poking me with that thing earlier, weren't you?!” Beneath folded hands was something she could only compare to a cane, positioned between herself and Vergil and held in such a manner that would strike anyone as _dignified_. It made him look far more impressive, as if he carried himself with priority, and it made Kat wonder, if only through subconscious, just _what_ his deal was.

“To wake you up,” he added, matter-of-factly, “though it's not a _walking_ stick—you'll learn more about it later. I'm waiting to get going.”

Kat exhaled through a huff, a little visibly irritated by Vergil's impatience. Nonetheless, she had nothing better to do, and even Dusty waited seated beside her as she whittled away the minutes speaking with their acquaintance. Finally conceding, she answered, “All right. It's your idea, anyway.” Vergil had no qualms with taking the lead, and lead he did when he turned without delay to guide Kat to their original meeting place. They made their way out of the lot, sticking to the shadows, avoiding the masses. Such was Vergil's habit, but not customary for Kat. The sneaking she'd done on occasion was _occasional_ , demanded by the situation she was often forced into. On any other day, she was bold and ostentatious, tramping about the world with her cosmic cat by her side, hiding nothing, making known her talents, and making the world a better place through it. As things stood now, she walked briskly but watchfully behind her new acquaintance, with Dusty padding along after her loyally.

“So… Are you gonna give me any hints as to what we're doing this time?”

“In just a bit.”

No answer. He'd make her wait, then. She figured as much, deflating a little at his obscurity and his overall reluctance (to put it generously) to give an inch. Regardless of his confidentiality, she still trusted him _reasonably_. The moment she smelled a rat, she'd back out of that hole. Fortunately, they needn't walk for long to reach their destination, and it contented Kat to see that he'd not deceived her thus far, either. Gilver had pointed out a street sign that read _Alocer Park_ just a walk across the street, but they would not stray from their path away from the openly exposed areas a handful of strides to the side, past the buildings Gilver would have them duck behind. Kat found it all unnecessary, and it was only so that he'd not be caught on camera. What was up with that, anyway? Oh, the thought reminded her that she _had_ to know.

“Hey,” she chirped unprompted, knowing she'd be heard. “Why do you want to stay away from the, uh, cameras, then? I've hardly seen any, just two so far. What's wrong with them?”

There was a delay in response, and in the din of the morning commotion it was as good as impossible to catch the throaty sound he'd made. He'd sank in thought for a moment, leaving Kat unanswered, but before she could annoy him with a reminder, he inhaled markedly to kick off what he was now poised to say. “I know you're probably tired of hearing this from me, but details will have to wait until later. For now, though, I _can_ tell you that it just isn't advisable to appear in front of them.”

“What gives, Gilver?! Seriously!”

“Be patient, would you?” He found his temper tested, his patience momentarily reaching an edge in a flash, which was ironic given how he'd urged _her_ to grant him patience in turn. Well, she had nothing to follow up with afterward. They both fell into silence again as they walked the remainder of their journey. The park was open, welcoming pedestrians, and like any another Vergil and Kat stepped through an entrance another number of strides away. Unremarkable, the two, from here, and no one really bothered to throw ponderous gazes their way. At least not more than once.

The park itself was enormous, marvelously green, larger than the one Kat had stopped by a day ago. Vergil knew it well, and that had to be a large part behind his coming here at all. He'd already known Kat's eyes darted all about, wide with hunger as they ate up their new surroundings; he needn't glance at her to confirm it, as such was only natural for newcomers to do. With his _walking stick_ in his left hand, not using it to walk at all, he guided her to a bench backed by oak trees thick with foliage. The placement of the park itself was unusual, so close by the active streets yet far away enough from the chaos that would have made it an uncomfortable experience. That may have been intentional: to preserve such a picturesque piece of the natural world in a city that had been stripped almost bare of every feature that wasn't already man-made. Even for someone like Vergil, who'd lived all his life as a city boy and wanted for nothing less, the abundance of green and quiet was a nice change of tempo from time to time.

And, here, no cameras could spoil his plans.

Upon stepping beside the empty bench, he invited Kat to sit, although he found he needed to brush away a handful of leaves from it before either of them could take a load off. It was warmed by the sun, not yet superheated, and he was more than grateful for that when he finally seated himself, settling his walking stick between his knees and folding his hands over the base just as he'd done earlier, and again did he appear stately with it positioned just so, with his back straight and his shoulders square, the whole of him relaxed.

With more animation Kat had all but thrown herself into her side of the bench, its backrest doing its job now that she'd leaned against it and she'd briefly kicked her legs out from the momentum of the impact. Perhaps she was beginning to feel the long walk, the night's less than ideal sleep, and the whole ordeal of the day before. Now she'd begun feeling worn out, beaten up, and a little homesick. Dusty leaped onto her lap, however, giving her comfort while affording himself a soft place to rest on as well. He faced Gilver, stared at him unwaveringly, and even Gilver had turned his head to look at the feline, and for one moment too long.

Blinking away, his attention returned to Kat who'd watched him expectantly. “Right, you probably have a lot to ask me.”

“Accurate guess,” she replied flatly.

“Well, the floor is yours. But I don't think we should get too far ahead without learning a little bit more about each other first.”

“That sounds fair.” Of course: they'd only met yesterday, and knew next to nothing about one another. With her hands occupied stroking Dusty's back, Kat found herself a good opportunity in which to press the young man for details. No holding back now. “I gotta go first though. I mean, you answer a few things for _me_ first. For all I know you're trying to take me for a ride.” With sharp determination lacing her words, she went on the offensive; however, she'd been privately grateful to him for keeping his objections and conditions to himself. He sat with his mouth closed, attention on her, and on she went. “So, first thing: you're kind of paranoid, aren't you? You stay out of sight, you're afraid of being on camera, you tell me that soda that's mass-produced is poisoned by the people who make it—that's what I got so far. Do you have a reason for all of this? I mean, whether it's suspicion or just fear, or maybe you've been reading too many science-fiction stories—not that I think you're eccentric, but… Well, you've got me wondering, and a little bit worried, too.

“And—hold on, I have some more I want to know,” she continued, cutting him off when it looked like he was about to interject to speak. “Now there's the second thing. Why are you so nice to me? You're oddly friendly to a complete stranger. I don't want to sound ungrateful, I mean you _did_ feed me and you didn't chew me out for anything, but I've got to say that's weird, too. Maybe I'm just not used to it. Back home, even people I've known for a while aren't so generous.”

“Can I stop you there?” Vergil cut in with a hand hovering between them, palm turned up toward her, to gesture that she should pause. With Kat's approval, his hand rejoined its partner, and he drew in a breath for the purpose of speaking at length. “To start with your first question, _yes_ , you could say in some ways I'm _suspicious_ , like you suggested. I've learned things about this city that call its character into question, and such a question can be answered with skepticism and doubt. From _my_ perspective, no one should really trust what's around them. I can tell you why: that's because a lot of it just isn't what it appears to be. This city is dangerous, make no mistake. I could elaborate on why in greater detail, but that will take time and added trust. That has something to do with your second question. I'm looking out for you, believe it or not. I know this place well, and I know you don't fit in here. You're more at risk than you realize, more than the people who've lived here for years and suspect nothing. They don't know what you or I know, and that lets them adapt as they're expected to. They fit right in, they won't cause trouble. _You_ could rebel, step out of line, and that may not end well for you.”

“I get what you're saying, but I still don't know why you _have_ to say it...”

“I _will_ get to that. Is it enough for you to know that I have your best interest in mind? I know this is going to sound discouraging, but I sort of _need_ you to trust in me. That's the only way you'd have any protection. Accept my gifts, my money, whatever I give you. There's a good reason behind all of it. If you think you can put your doubts to rest, please try. There isn't anything sinister to my kindness.”

Of course, he need only say that to have her bought without effort spent. Just by the way her brows came to knit, Vergil saw enough uncertainty in her to figure that she'd take his word and even follow it. She couldn't have known better, not one thing from the other, and so it was sensible to conclude that Kat would take the safest approach available to her, such a choice being to believe in Vergil's honorable intentions.

Still petting Dusty with both hands, Kat hummed a soft note while she mulled over his answers, but it took no more than a minute for her to ultimately acknowledge. “You've been pretty believable so far—not that I thought you were lying to me or anything… But I don't think you'd tell just anybody about these things, huh? Whatever's going on around here must be more serious than it sounds. Hey, if you're willing to steer me clear from whatever that is, I'll take it.”

He'd take that as the best affirmation he'd get out of her. Satisfied himself, he nodded with the mildest smile briefly worn upon his maw. “Good. I also need you to understand that the things I tell you are sensitive, for _your_ knowledge only. Keep it to yourself. It's for the best.”

“No problem! I can keep a secret,” agreed Kat. She flashed a greater smile than his, but the memory of her uncertainty resurfaced, and she'd suddenly found in her whirling mind another topic on which to press Gilver for answers. “Oh, yeah, I wasn't done asking questions,” she announced. “If you don't mind, and I _know_ you won't,” she went on to say teasingly, “how about you tell me why you brought that walking stick if you don't have any trouble walking? Or is there some deeper meaning behind it, like something _else_ you couldn't even begin explaining to me?” That was a touch of mockery.

“Oh,” he observed lightly, a little amused by how she'd caught on already. However, she was not altogether wrong in her assumption, either. Vergil glanced at the object held steadily beneath his palms, reflecting on it fleetingly. He'd expected a harder question to answer, truthfully. “It's an heirloom. My father passed it down to me years ago. It's not for walking, actually. Haven't you been able to tell yet? Just take a good look at it.”

Kat followed his direction, even Dusty did the same, looking at the object that he hadn't moved in the least. He was right, and she almost felt like a fool for not noticing earlier: not a _stick_ she saw, but something much different which she had some trouble placing. The detail was really in the portion of the thing that lay immediately beneath his hands, somewhat covered by gloved fingers.

“Um…?” She wondered aloud as she looked back at him.

“Well?”

“It's… not a stick, I'm pretty sure. Come on, don't keep me guessing!”

“It's a sword. It's the most valuable thing I own. For _personal_ reasons, not monetary.” Had she really not seen such a thing before? He was a little baffled it took her this long, but regarding the change in her demeanor once she'd grasped the facts was satisfactory. He didn't let her wide eyes have a better look at it; he'd, instead, kept it securely in place with his gloved palms resting on top of it without an itch. It might have slipped his mind, or he didn't want unfamiliar fingers prodding and probing where they shouldn't. A territorial, greedy man he was when it came to _certain_ things.

Kat, of course, was ever so curious about it now, as good as spellbound by the object of discussion. She was impressed, thought the whole thing very novel, and so there was upon her countenance a look similar to awe. With a twinkle in her eyes, she inquired further. “It must be really old. Is it? Is it an antique? Have you used it? Do you _know_ how to? Did your dad teach you? I hope you didn't _need_ to use it, you know, that would mean that— but I don't think you're the type. Why'd you bring it with you? Don't tell me you're going to _have_ to use it—unless it's for something else, you know, and not what I'm thinking.”

She'd asked him one too many questions, few of which he'd be able to answer. In what appeared to be a pause in her verbal onslaught, Vergil firmly stepped in to leave a few words for contemplation before another question would spring forward. “Just hold it there,” he said, not yet annoyed but her enthusiasm had subconsciously got him fiery. “I _do_ know how to use it, and I brought it along because... it's something I often do. And if I'm reading you right, then I can tell you that I _won't_ be using it for what you've got in mind.” It was something of a shame that he'd lied to her, more or less guaranteeing that he wouldn't use the blade to draw blood. It was never a certainty, hence his habit of taking it with him more often than he should have. Of course, if it was human blood Kat was worried about, _that_ needn't be a worry at all. Life of another kind had to meet its end, and on this point he would like to make himself clear sooner rather than later.

“And what—?”

“Kat, how about letting me have a turn?” He interrupted with good nature, wearing a persuasive little smile that was sure to sway his company into holding her tongue for a spell. When she sheepishly agreed, Vergil found his turn to pry. “How about we talk about where you're from?” It came as mild a suggestion as any.

“Hekseville. It's— _oh_.” For the shortest second she'd thought to point out its position to him, turning her head to seek out a landmark, but she'd forgotten she'd been flung far away from her home by the evidence these foreign lands submitted. “Um, I don't think it's anywhere around here, is it?” Looking back at Gilver, she had the littlest chuckle to spare at her own expense. The question, of course, was already answered.

“It couldn't be, _I_ haven't heard of it,” he confessed.

“Yeah… I had a hunch. We're pretty close to the World Pillar. Is _that_ at least nearby?”

“I'm about as lost as you are. I don't know of any so-called monument, or landmark, or whatever it's supposed to be.” Gilver didn't hold his punches but spoke with a frankness that would have otherwise been refreshing if not for the complication that unfolded before the girl's eyes.

It wouldn't have been an exaggeration to say that she'd watched him in some small amount of horror. “W-what do you mean?! The World Pillar's huge! It extends way up into the sky, and so far below that you can't see the end of it—or even the top for that matter. But I've been to the bottom, and it's not looking too good.” Given the look of utter perplexity painting Gilver's face, Kat went on to say, “I just can't believe you've never heard of it. This island might just be too far away.”

“No... We're not on an island. To my knowledge, there's nothing that even remotely resembles such a thing as you described.” He shrugged his shoulders, his expression simple and flat. “That only begs emphasis on the question: where _the hell_ are you from?”

“Well, you tell _me_ where this is!”

“This is Limbo City,” Vergil answered, his tone measured, “I'm sure you've read the name somewhere during your time here.”

Kat let go of Dusty at last, gripping at the seat of the bench in raw excitement and leaning forward, almost folding over the cat who'd had the sense to jump off of her lap. With eyes wide and round as saucers, Kat could not help but gawk at the young man who'd sat so pleasantly beside her. It was then that it really dawned on her: she _was_ lost, terribly, so far out of bounds she dreaded to know what it would take to return home. If this place was so far away from the World Pillar that people didn't even know about it, what hope did she have of finding a way? This was nothing like the incident that condemned her to the Banga settlement, to Jirga Para Lhao; there, at least, many things were still familiar. She'd not strayed too far from home in the end. But _here_? Oh, how dismal it all suddenly looked to her!

“ _I_ don't know what Limbo City is!” she cried, her tone hapless. “No one back home talks about it! Now that I think about it, everything out here looks _wrong_.”

None of this sounded encouraging, and the more they exchanged their respective facts, the clearer it became to them both that the situation was one far more pressing and extraordinary than they'd once realized. Of course, Vergil had found her cat to be very unlike what he'd known as natural. A creature not of _this_ Earth, outside of scientific possibility. That in itself was astounding to him, and now he'd understood just why. Kat and Dusty were… otherworldly. That was why he had to intervene, to be the one to influence her earliest. Her pet was a dead giveaway for him, even if he hadn't known the truths behind it and its owner. His curiosity led to this, and now it was that same curiosity that came into full bloom. While she was agitated, he was eager. But all the while he remembered to be mindful, and he was skilled at restraining himself when it mattered. Concerns arose, surely, but those would be dealt with in time.

“Kat,” he came to say, “you need to calm down. You weren't panicking yesterday. Tell me what you see is 'wrong'.”

“I guess it didn't hit me until now. And… somehow the situation is worse than I might have thought it'd be.” She turned her head away to take a solemn moment to gaze, downcast, directly ahead of her. She was quiet, perhaps taking her companion's advice to heart. It certainly looked as though the tension in her body melted down, leaving her shoulders slumped and her posture almost hunched. The adrenaline must've been working its way out, and that was to both her and _his_ benefit.

“I mean, it's everything. Most of it,” she went on to explain. “Your airboats are on the ground, the sky is so empty, the people… just look different, act different. Your city is unlike anything I've ever seen. And it just goes on and on, like there's no end to it. Even the language, actually. I haven't heard it before, and… I can understand it anyway. I don't know how; it's definitely not what we speak at Hekseville. Just so much is different, all the little things. How would I even begin to find my way home?”

Vergil would have offered his sympathy, but he'd thought it wise not to become _personal_. If he tried to relate in any way, it'd backfire on him; such was his guess, and he preferred not to gamble. Kat was feeling quite enough already. What she described to him, naturally, did not ring any bells, and the idea of _airboats_ , for example, had him entirely stumped and oh, so curious. He could only wonder what kind of language she was fluent in, and that too had him wanting to put together the pieces. But he was aware he'd have been of little help to her if he only dug any deeper to satisfy his own wandering mind. He let her have seconds of peace before ultimately speaking up once more, drawing a discreet breath to precede the words. “What I have to say next won't make you feel any better, but it could give you some clarity at the very least.” Carefully, mercifully, with his voice low, Vergil prepared Kat for what _he_ concluded was the cold, hard truth that so often hurt more than it healed. Glacial eyes were fixed on her, hard as they gazed but not at all hard enough to be agonizing to endure. She must have felt them—and she did. With her head still turned away, her lips buttoned, Vergil went on. “From what I gather, you're reality isn't the same as mine. And, yet, you're… here, somehow, in _my_ reality, or my version of it...? I wish I had the details, but your cat might have something to do with it. He's what tipped me off, in a way, when I first saw you. There isn't a cat, or any animal, alive _or_ dead that's anything like him.”

He could tell that she'd shifted her gaze when her head moved the slightest toward her left. Dusty sat there, right beside her feet, peering up the entire time as if he'd listened to their conversation. He looked into her eyes as she looked into his, and under her breath she muttered, “Dusty...?”

“I'm only guessing,” Vergil interjected, having heard her, with a little haste to his tone to make clear his position. “I don't have all the facts. You must have crossed into another reality somehow, and I know that's going quite a stretch, but let's just term it for now considering the circumstances.”

That earned a renewed look from her, a quick tucking of hair behind her ear, and she faced him now with furrowed brows and more helplessness than anxiety. “That's… I guess that's the best thing to call it,” she agreed, resigned.

“Listen. There _has_ to be a way to reverse the effects,” Vergil continued, attempting to encourage his company. “If you can come in, you can go out. Likely in the same way. We just have to find it.”

“...'We'?”

“You're not alone in this. I said I'd help you: I guess that includes something like _this_. But I'm not opposed. You're lucky I believe in extreme possibilities.”

That was heartening to hear. Even if it may have been an exaggeration, a shot at cheering her up, or a boldfaced lie, the words were welcome to her ears and easily wormed into her heart. They did the job, and Kat found she could smile again, albeit with a little difficulty. But she had to remember who she was: not a _quitter_ , that was certain. Whatever beat her down in the past hadn't successfully kept her down, not once. She'd always stand back up, stronger and more determined. Losing hope wasn't an option, and it shouldn't be one now. Not when she'd gained an ally so quickly, and she should have realized that at the start. Vergil was willing to believe her, even going so far as to stretch the truth of the matter, and he offered his aid without conditions. Who would ever do such a thing? Oh, how valuable that was to have, especially in trying times.

“You're right about that. No, really,” she replied, strength flooding back into her voice. “There's always a way out of a tight spot. Being upset won't help anything. I lost my head for a bit, but I'm ready now.” Those crimson pools flared to life, set aflame by the fire in her core. Genuinely, Vergil had been grateful for that. Even Dusty responded to her animation, meowing as if in wholehearted agreement and equal readiness.

Vergil, on the other hand, nodded at her with a smile of his own. He liked to see optimism, and it prompted the subconscious call to straighten his back. The muscles in his hands flexed where he kept them, dispelling numbness. He watched her as she sat back, impressed by how rapidly she recovered. Bright once more, but Vergil had a bubble to break. “There's just the small matter of getting started,” he said with some nonchalance, perhaps in irony. A _small_ hurdle to overcome; they both had to believe that or they'd never get anywhere. “All that aside, I'm _fascinated_. This might be the most incredible thing that's ever happened in our history.”

“You really don't look or sound like it's all that incredible,” she observed, a little misguided by Vergil's outward appearance. “Besides, no offense, but isn't this kind of the wrong thing to be 'fascinated' by? You could be a lot more concerned, you know, and not just for me. Who knows what kind of consequences this reality crossing thing could hold?”

“Believe me, I _do_ have all of that in mind. I also have a knack for masking what I'm feeling, if you didn't already figure that out,” he informed in reply. “Nothing is without its consequences or its risks. But what's happened here, with you, is something of a challenge for me. To restrain myself, I mean. I'd like nothing more than to pry; I have so many questions in mind to ask you—as I'm sure you have for me. But I remember we'd come here for a reason, and I think what we're discussing now might fit nicely into what I'd been wanting to bring up.”

Vergil didn't need an okay from her to go on, even if she had mildly agreed with him and invited him to get down to brass tacks. But where to begin? Touching upon the cameras installed throughout the city would be an effective start and allow a smooth segue into the inevitable to surely come: the cameras' source, their reason for being, those in control who'd _watched_ from the other side. Of course, a few necessary details would have to be left out for today. Vergil had to do this wisely lest he send Kat into another panic—or, worse, make a right skeptic out of her and thus compromise what trust had been sown. Moderation would go far as it normally tended to, and Vergil thought it prudent to conceal more of the truth from her than he might have with a local. “Then,” he began, “let's start with the city itself, the _cameras_ first of all,” and this he said in a quieter voice. He shifted in his seat before he went any further, deciding to recline for once. The oddest thing followed: upon his back touching the backrest, the environment itself rippled as if calm waters disturbed by a single touch.

He'd seen it with his own eyes, all around, the world bleeding in and out instantly, blending with another like paints spilled and mixed together. By the time he realized what was at play, and a feeling of dread sank into his core (and all this happened in an instant), he was already too late to escape the pull—and even Kat wasn't free, completely unaware of what had begun before she, too, realized that something had gone wrong in the world. The look on Gilver's face was only a tip, the first thing she'd noted while she looked at him before her eyes veered away to catch space behind him warping in ways unfamiliar to her. Neither of them had a chance to do a thing: the sky turned cloudless and a shade of blue-green, vivid scenes burst onto their surroundings, the world moved and shifted and changed according to its own whims, leaving Kat and Vergil to its mercy. As they shot up out of the bench, it twisted and bent itself out of shape. Suddenly, all things came alive. The groan of metal, the cracking of concrete and asphalt—a rush of sound lasting only a mere handful of seconds before dying away, leaving hollow silence in its wake, and with it an environment changed, reality altered, but fragments of what was once there remained, presenting a partial mirror image but bent out of shape and not of sustained familiarity. But Vergil was irritated with this, not dismayed or disturbed the way Kat had become. He knew this place well, and all about him came a change in demeanor noticeable in the expression of dissatisfaction now worn on his face.

An unwanted complication, but not unanticipated. He was right to have that heirloom with him now.


End file.
